Poetry 

Swimmer’s Ear

the smell of chlorine and plastic takes me back to safety

safe and small and so innocent and young and blissfully unaware

running around shelves of chemicals was the safest I ever remember feeling

and for you it was work but for me it was bliss.

maybe I was happy then?

 

blonde wisps of a child’s hair turned green from the chemicals

and the pool smell floats around us all summer and carries us through each season

we got older, you and I, and the pool season ended eventually

and like the colors of my neon swimsuits, that memory fades too.

maybe I was safe then?

 

pools turned into trips to the ocean, but it smells different, like cigarettes

and I long for the chemical smell and try to tell you but I don’t know how

when we are so far apart, you don’t swim with me here you lay on the sand

and I drift and scream under the salty waves

maybe I was never safe

 

my children have long summer days now, but their hair is darker, so it doesn’t turn green

and I had forgotten my mother worked at a pool store and that we were happy once

The waves crash over and underneath and are around me and they are me. Barefoot seaweed tangled in my hair and clinging to my blue jeans, holes ripped wide where the fabric was once solid… my body is heavy, so heavy.

The sand beneath me is on my belly and in my teeth. I’m crawling towards the sound of something familiar and the waves lap gently, looming black and threatening to grow bigger if I don’t feed them.

I vomit seawater and it glistens with tiny fish and stars and I give into the fight. Familiar sounds fade and I only hear a heart beating, can feel it in the air. I turn towards the sea and let the black wave consume me, become me, overtake me and bubbles pop in my ears. I wish you were here.

Ask me how I’m doing and I’ll tell you the truth

that’s what she always used to say

but she didn’t consider the mean ones the winners

until she was carried away.

I thought of her often

how her features would soften and smile

and I found her naïve

until bitter resentment ruled over contentment

and then I admit, I believed.

you can let them steal your joy

she would say and really I wasn’t paying attention

I don’t think it mattered to pretend to hear laughter

when I was managing crisis prevention.

but now I am older and I think she was wise

to pay no mind to the negative and cruel

she knew it was there but was also aware

that a soft heart would be the one to rule.

I think of her smile when I feel overwhelmed

and I feel chaos come creeping about

even though it sometimes shakes me it no longer overtakes me

and if you ask how I am you’ll get the truth

no doubt.

We walked between the trees and spoke about the horrible thing that had happened and how much stronger I had gotten physically since it transpired. I lost the baby viciously only two weeks prior; the internal bleeding almost took my life but took the babies instead. And now here we are, in the beautiful Yellowstone landscape and the only thing missing was what was inside of me. You held my hand and for a few minutes I felt normal, this place is the only place on earth that will ever heal me. I laughed loudly at something you said and noticed the shift in your eyes and then you spoke. Just one word. “Bear.” And then, “grizzly.”

I turned and froze. The bear stood less than forty yards away. His fur was close enough to see it ripple in the wind. My hand moved to my hip where my bear spray was holstered but I did little more than stare. To share a space with a creature so magnificent, alone in the wilderness just you me and the grizzly. Then we noticed there were more hikers and they were moving toward us and the bear was moving towards them. We yelled and howled like animals, at the people, at the bear, at the wind. I yelled louder than I had yelled in a long time and anyone else would have thought it was the bear

that I was yelling about but it was so much more. I yelled for myself and the grief I didn’t know how to feel. I yelled for the man standing next to me, who held me and carried me through this even though he couldn’t fix it. And I yelled for the baby who I wanted so badly, who I carried for such a short time before she brutally left me in this new world where I wanted to crumble.

And I looked at that bear and I wasn’t afraid, and the bear must have sensed it because he ran, back up the hill and away and into the beautiful landscape. I wanted to follow it, to become its family or to allow it to consume me

but grief doesn’t work that way and neither do bears.

I pull a wagon painted bright red

Whitewashed wheels and a sturdy bed

I pull a wagon full of my dreams

This beautiful wagon is all mine, it seems.

 

My mom told me my wagon is bright

And that if anyone tries to take it to fight

Her heart was all beat up and tired

She put her stuff in my wagon while rediscovering her fire.

 

I met a boy with a nice smile

He asked if he could walk with me awhile

He set his stuff in my wagon, too

But I don’t mind that’s what lovers do.

 

Over the years the people I meet

Are always so weary on their feet

They put their stuff down for me to carry

But its so heavy sometimes it becomes scary.

 

I found my dreams buried deep one day

And asked if they would come out to play

But first I had to clean up a mess

Wagons aren’t made to handle so much stress.

 

I carry with me what I can

Some for my mom, my sons, and a man

I try and keep my dreams on top

They keep me going when I want to stop.

 

Little red wagon with rickety wheels

Carrying everyone’s burdens and how they feel.

A lotus thrives in mud and so should you

Dig your hands in deep, grow your soul in soil,

If you’re ready to heal love, see it through.

 

It won’t be easy to make yourself new

Dig deeply and deeper into the root,

A lotus thrives in mud and so should you.

 

Make yourself dig when you’re tired and blue,

You’re most yourself at these times, so wonder,

If you’re ready to heal love, see it through.

 

Grieve, scream, cry, whatever you need to do

Be brave, be bold, and mostly remember

A lotus thrives in mud and so should you.

 

If you want to give up, that’s normal too,

Then perhaps you are not, but ask yourself,

If you’re ready to heal, love? See it through.

 

Let go of strongholds to find what is true

Unafraid to see under the surface,

A lotus thrives in mud and so should you,

You are ready to heal love, see it through.